


Songs of a Beauty

by AlpacaJinnie



Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 16:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12193683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlpacaJinnie/pseuds/AlpacaJinnie
Summary: The tale of the path of ashes left behind by the mirror image of Ashi





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I came across a poem in the film House of the Flying Daggers (highly recommend watching because it’s awesome) which naturally reminded me of dear Tammy. So I wrote Tahameney’s life while loosely using the poem as guideline. I know my writing is awful but have fun anyway

北方有佳人

Běifāng yǒu jiārén

In the North lives a beautiful lady

 

绝世而独立

Juéshì ér dúlì

Peerless and outstanding

 

一顾倾人城

Yī gù qing rén chéng

One glance causes cities to fall

 

再顾倾人国

Zài gù qing rén guó

Another leaves nations in ruins

 

宁不知

Níng bùzhī

Better is it not to know

 

倾城与倾国

Qīngchéng yǔ qīng guó

The destruction of cities and lands that follows

 

佳人难再得

Jiārén nán zài de

For such a destructively beautiful lady, is too hard to find


	2. 北方有佳人	绝世而独立

The bells rung in the high city, bordering the Parsian empire. In the castle, far above the mist of the lower city, a child was born. Her mother had called the seers whom upon their arrival delivered a prophecy which worried the local lords. It told of beauty so unparalleled that it would influence all in the known world. Upon the birth and announcement of the child, priests and priestesses from far and wide were called in to bring offerings to any god that would hear them, that they might show mercy on the people surrounding this child.

But not just fear was heard amongst the many lords that served in the court of this small kingdom. They schemed, they plotted. The beauty – so they said with hushed voices, behind closed doors – could be used as a bargaining chip with the Parsians. She could be married to Osroes, the prince who would take the throne once his father passed. This would buy the lords of this kingdom safety from the expanding empire. When they walked about the castle corridors or passed the tents of their men, they would hear the whispers about the Parsians. “Immortals” they would hear. Yes, this kingdom feared the Parsians more than the wrath of the gods they abandoned to plead for forgiveness for whatever they had done to deserve such a destructive child.

But fate has a way of toying with those subjected to her will.

Years passed and the child grew. She strode through her chambers when she was two and recited ancient poetry by the age of five. She was not a joyous child, but she was not as cold as she would one day become. At the age of twelve she was more beautiful than anyone in court, by age fourteen she rivalled the goddess Ashi.

The generals began to grow concerned. Soon the time would come that the Parsians needed a wife for their crown prince. So far, they had remained out of the flames of the Parsian fury but it would not last long, this they all knew.

And so came an official request to have the most beautiful lady in all of the known world marry the Parsian soon-to-be king.

‘Open the gates! A messenger from Ectbatana approaches!’

‘Open gates!’ echoed the commander on the wall.

The messenger rode into the castle at a staggering speed.

He did not stop to tie his horse to a post outside the castle and ran inside, directly to the main hall.

‘My Lord! My Lady! Prince Osroes will personally ride here to assess whether Lady Tahameney is a worthy bride! He brings a small protective army as well as his brother; the prince Andragoras. They shall arrive within days!’

The king and queen exchanged worried looks. The reception of a Parsian army within the city walls could go wrong in a multitude of ways. However, if it meant they could avert the rage of the Parsian army it might be worth it. Fairly quickly they had concocted a plan to handle the arrival of two Parsian princes. They ordered their servants to find the most gorgeous dress and the most fragrant perfume for their daughter to wear during the banquet they would hold to receive Osroes and his brother.

Away from the throne room, a young girl – only sixteen – sat on a chair as servants buzzed around her. Two were doing her hair making sure it looked even more silken than it usually did. Two more servants were running in and out of the enormous room adjoined to this one, which held a vast collection of dresses. Jittery, they held up one after another in front of or next to the quiet princess. With impassive look on her face, she watched sceptically as the servants ran about. She wondered what type of guest would illicit such determination to make everything in the palace twice as splendorous as it had been before and even more ostentatiously glamorous. Because she was a girl, she had not received politics and diplomacy lessons. Instead she was taught the arts and other matters, all of which exclusively reserved for women. It made no sense in her mind. What sane person would challenge their military? She had seen them from the tower whilst standing next to her father when he gave encouraging speeches, emphasising the nigh insurmountable strength of their troops. Or when her brother had praised them for defeating yet another fierce enemy. The girl rolled her neck which was getting stiff while the hairdressers did their utmost to make her hair look even better than it normally did. She wondered what kind of man Osroes was for a moment before her mind returned to indifference.

‘My Lady?’

‘I’m ready. Take me to the throne room.’

‘Her Royal Highness, the Princess Tahameney!’

As she was announced, the massive doors to the throne room swung open and revealed the stunning girl behind them. The entire hall fell silent as she strode across the middle of the hall before sitting down next to her mother, by her father’s left hand side. As she sat, Osroes stood.

‘The stories of your beauty seem to have been more than rumour.’ He spoke. ‘Indeed your beauty rivals that of Ashi herself.’

The princess acknowledged the praise with a cold nod towards the powerful prince. As she glanced at him and his brother once more, she spotted a glint of something unidentifiable behind the eyes of Andragoras. She quickly dismissed the thoughts and ate quietly. While her parents and the princes discussed the possibility of marriage, she took the time to evaluate the princes. Osroes was a reasonably handsome man – especially when compared to his younger brother. He carried him with a grace becoming of a future-king. He was well-spoken and eloquent man and actually took the effort of thinking before speaking. The same could not be said for Andragoras who was corrected on more than one occasion by his older brother, and reprimanded at least as many times for not following etiquette. Just for a moment Tahameney was glad that she was to marry Osroes and not his obnoxious brother. Even if her parents only did it to solidify their own position in this world, the young princess was glad that it was Osroes who would serve that goal.

The prince in question stood up as he spoke to her father. ‘My lord, will we have the honour of witnessing your daughter’s dancing and musical talents tonight?’

With a flick of the king’s hand, instruments and musicians appeared from the small doorways on either side of the great hall. When they had prepared they perfectly-polished instruments which were all tuned to perfection, Tahameney rose. She gracefully strode to the middle of the hall where room was made to facilitate dance. With a cold nod, she ordered the musicians to play a piece. As she started moving, the guests grew more quiet as, one by one, they were captured by the grace of this young girl’s movments. The young lady floated across the floor as though carried by the wings of angels. When the movement and her dancing stopped, a total silence fell over the hall. All the lords were baffled by the talent that this girl possessed. She made a light bow as she walked over to one of the instruments. She would recite a Parsian poem which would be suitable to the occasion – which meant one about their hero-king, Parsians sure loved their wars. She decided she would play no more than one poem, for her voice had very much the same effect on the great hall as her dancing had. After a long silence, the Parsian heir started clapping loudly – not knowing what else to do. He had no words at the ready. Hesitantly at first, the rest of the lords and ladies in the hall joined

When the young princess returned to her chair, she received a satisfied look from her parents. Once more Osroes stood up.

‘Truly your beauty and talent are without parallel. You might one day surpass the Goddess Ashi herself!’

The smallest of smiles played on Tahameney’s lips. She had this man wrapped around her finger. The safety of her parents’ kingdom would be assured.

 


	3. 一顾倾人城 (part 1)

(part 1)

 

The bells rung in the high city, bordering the Parsian empire. Over the castle, far above the mist of the lower city, the sky roared. Flames danced as though to worship the conjurers of the evil that befell the small kingdom. The alarm bells sounded increasingly urgent as nobles were rushed out of the castle and the servants ran about – some looking to smother the flames, some looking to abandon the lords and ladies that had forcefully employed them. In the middle of her room, a young princess sat calmly in her chair. Contemplating her next move carefully.

It had been the afternoon after the banquet held in honour of the Parsian guests. Her parents had grown overconfident. In flames their hubris was burned from this world. Their kingdom scorched from the pages of history. Self-conceited in his own tactical skills, her father had ordered the assassination of the Parsian princes. To assassinate any heir to any kingdom was downright foolish to attempt. The shame brought upon the house in charge of the castle in which an assassination happened was sure to put them out of favour with any neighbouring country. The young princess knew this, her parents had known this. But now they knew very little for their insides had, by now, surely been draped across the walls of the throne room as a sarcastic addition to the ostentatious decoration that came with the wealth that the king and queen had once enjoyed. The Parsians were cruelly effective in their retaliations. It was sadly not a case without precedence. The pure stupidity of all involved on her parents’ side was astounding. Tahameney assumed that Osroes had no hand in the full disaster that befell the kingdom that would once be hers, but he was sure to have ordered the capture of her father and mother. The flames, the death, the destruction, this was all of Andragoras’ design. That flame in his eyes she had seen during the banquet was the ember that had set fire to the castle that was once her home.

She raised herself from the chair to stand straight-up, to her full height – exactly as she had been taught – and strode out of the room. Surely Andragoras would come looking for her too. With but a handful of her most trusted maids, she made her way to the Badakhshani envoy’s quarters. They were located relatively close to a secret exit and the principality had proven itself a faithful ally to her kingdom. Her parents had once instructed on an escape plan in case a catastrophe such as the current one would befall the empire. Around her servants and slaves screamed in terror, desperately looking for an escape. They would not find it. Andragoras’ soldiers would likely have barricaded the entrance to the castle by now. With the king and queen both dead and their only heir – a woman at that – being inside a burning castle that was sealed by the “immortal” Parsian army, it was less than likely that the army of the burning kingdom would act. Amidst the screaming underlings of nobles – the latter of which had escaped long ago – the calm princess and her maids were a scene incompatible to the raging chaos around them. Even now, however, those of lower class – which was to say everyone who had not escaped by now except the princess – made a wide arc around the small royal procession.

Having arrived at the Badakhshani quarters, she motioned one of her maids to knock on the door. It immediately swung open to reveal the envoy. He bowed quickly before motioning Tahameney to lead the way. With not a grain less dignity than before the fall of her parents’ kingdom, she strode into a section of the castle that was rarely visited. One of the only good things her parents had done. It was part of a simple but theoretically effective escape plan. The escape tunnels, known only to the monarchs’ direct family made the young princess suspect that her parents had foreseen their own downfall years ago. Their reign was flawed and uprisings not uncommon. Of course Tahameney was not supposed to know this but, though she may have been raised in ignorance and as a royal disconnected from the realm she was supposed to rule one day, she grew up with a particularly sharp mind.

She calmly marched through the maze that would lead her outside. Even though she had not been here before, she remembered exactly what turns to take from her parents’ instructions. After a good hour, they reached the horizontal stone door that sealed them from the outside world. Once they surfaced from it, they would be a few dozen metres outside the wall at a farm where horses were permanently present. Tahameney doubted the farmers were even aware of this escape plan. The group ascended the stairs and surfaced from the ground. Indeed the tunnels had led them straight to large stables, full of horses. The princess stood still at the top of the stairs as her maids immediately went to work on preparing the horses. Within ten minutes, they were ready to leave. The maids helped her on her horse and rode to the edge of the farm. The people sleeping inside would never know the princess had passed through here and instead assume they had been robbed. The girl calmly looked at the Badakhshani envoy and coolly nodded to indicate she was ready, the envoy in turn signalled for his single servant to lead the way to their home country where they would shelter the princess to a kingdom that no longer existed.

 

* * *

 

‘The Lady Tahameney!’

As she was taught, she showed no irritation at the excessively loud court announcers. She had been travelling for nigh on a fortnight and was in a seriously foul mood after spending so much time in the wilderness. She took a deep breath and strode into the main hall.

‘Greetings my lady,’ a tall man dressed in red robes greeted her. ‘We are most honoured to receive you in Badakhshan. In this court, I serve as Grand Vizier to his Royal Highness the Prince Keyumars of Badakhshan.’

The pale woman just regarded the man with impassive grace. In her mind she was wondering what made this prince feel that he did not owe her the common courtesy of appearing before her himself. On paper they were equals, in political reality he was subject to her will. But then this most likely would not apply now that her kingdom lie in ruins.

‘My lady, allow my servants to show you to your room.’

On the inside she was fuming; she knew she was no longer the heiress to any throne, but that did not mean she could be dismissed like this. She refused to be the servant to some prince.

Whatever her thoughts may have been at the time, her outward appearance remained perfectly calm and collected. So much so that it slightly unsettled the advisors to the Grand Vizier – though not the man himself. If anything he found the detached calm of the princess admirable, attractive even. To him it testified of wisdom acquired through learning and experience, which would be very useful in court.

‘As for outside of court,’ the man thought with the lower area of his body, ‘she has the looks.’

The Grand Vizier decided then and there that, would she prove herself a valuable ally in court, he would marry her. It would fortify his position in court and her stunning appearance would be a welcome bonus he thought to himself.

As the servants of the Grand Vizier motioned Tahameney to follow, she could not help but notice the look in the eye of the, already married, man. While it was common to have lovers when one had obtained a high enough position in court, and while the man was powerful, she would refuse to fall from princess to a Grand Vizier’s favourite whore. She elegantly turned her back on the court and made for her chambers.

 

* * *

 

 

It was not long before the former princess – now just “Lady” – started being frequently visited by the Grand Vizier of Badakhshan. While she admitted the man was better than Andragoras, she still did not like the way he ogled her. If he was not testing her diplomatic aptitude, he was undressing her with his eyes. If the chance arose, he would do both.

‘And that is why we should move our armies to the border with Sindhura,’ spoke the Grand Vizier.

Tahameney’s voice was cold as usual as she carefully worded her response. ‘I disagree. As current relations with Sindhura are strained, upsetting them should be avoided at any cost. Seeing as their army outnumbers your army at least two to one, it would be highly unwise to stoke tensions. As such, it would be best to move your troops to the western borders. The principality has natural defences to the east in the form of a river, and to the north in the form of mountains. Seeing as how these infantry units would be wasted in any naval attack, and Parsians are useless in the mountains where their cavalry is essentially rendered ineffective at best it would be useless to send them south and unnecessary to send them north. Seeing as Badakhshan is not openly at war with Sindhura, it is best if the borders with Pars are sufficiently reinforced.’

Honestly, it annoyed her how much she had to speak before this buffoon would understand her analysis of the situation. The man, dressed in the most expensive white silk, gazed at the map for a minute or so – the lady found this a welcome change.

‘I see, I see. Very well, we shall move the troops to the west.’

He was easily manipulated. However, Tahameney found his choice of clothing to be rarely appropriate. He often chose to “accidentally” don the same colours as she had while visiting her. Even worse, the prince of Badakhshan had already been making advances on her since they day he finally received her. In terms of character, the prince was a man. Nothing more, nothing less. He had the typical traits of a man at court; feigned benevolence, no interest in anything but riches and pleasures, and an ego the size of which would put the great Southern Seas to shame. If Tahameney could secure a marital alliance with the prince, at least she would be guaranteed extra guards and would once more be free to do as she pleased. This court was very clear about the involvement of women. The only reason she had been “advising” the Grand Vizier in the first place, was that technically this court owed _her_ nothing. The only reason she was kept here was by the financial grace of her late parents. Probably the only reason this principality not yet lay in ruins. And so she had to be of some use to them. But here lay a problem too. For the Grand Vizier liked to spend time with her despite the advances of the prince, whom she favoured for obvious reasons – mainly safety and stability. The Lady Tahameney was intelligent enough to see this could hardly lead to fortune but chose not to interfere. Upsetting the court would be the quickest manner of being banned from the castle altogether.

 

* * *

 

 

‘As such the honour has been bestowed upon you to marry my master, the Grand Vizier.’

The once-princess had to put in quite some effort to remain calm. She could almost feel her eyes twitching.

‘Dismissed.’ She spoke in an icy voice.

It was custom in this court to give the ladies a few days to consider a proposal. During this time she could consult her family if the match was appropriate, of sufficient standing, and a good addition to the family in every other aspect. Quite frankly though, her family was dead. Burnt in flames they of their own making. A fate she very much wished upon the Grand Vizier. If she were to refuse this offer, even the Prince, whom she had not seen for weeks, would not be able to keep her at his court. On the other hand, were she to accept this “offer” she would be stuck to a political nobody. Granted he had influence, but once she was his she would have to move away from the court anyway to administer the peasant backwater the Grand Vizier owned. And this she refused. 

After a discussion with her most trusted servants, however, she came to the conclusion that her options were limited. This did not mean that there were no options left to explore. One of the more shrewd handmaidens had pointed out that the prince of Badakhshan was easily manipulated – for he was a man. If played well, he might sway the court against this betrothal to claim Tahameney for himself.

 

* * *

 

 

And so it happened that over the course of her betrothal to the Grand Vizier – who spent ever more time with her, barely leaving her chambers now that he had an legitimate argument why he could stay – she met with the Prince in secret. With a few staged needs for help and a few insincere compliments, she had the man around her finger the way she had had Osroes.

Tahameney was mildly pleased by the ease with which she and her maids executed the plan. She displayed the slightest hint of a smile as she passed the prince in the hallway. The look in his face was that of a man infatuated – exactly what she was aiming for. When men are in love they retain some sense of rationality. When men are infatuated, all rationality vanishes as if swallowed by the vast southern seas. The lady could not help but notice the irony of her toying with the prince whilst making her way to the preparations for her wedding to the Grand Vizier.

‘My lady,’

Her mood immediately turned sour and the prince hurriedly made his way along the hall.

‘I am glad to see you are well today.’ The voice of the Grand Vizier was beyond disgusting to the ears of the beautiful lady as he came parading down the hall.

‘My Lord.’ She answered curtly, with a nod.


End file.
